Read Online The Ribbon Weaver by Rosie Goodwin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rosie Goodwin
Ads: Link
that this was one of them.
‘Right then, Amy.’ Her voice was cool. ‘That’ll be quite enough snivellin’ fer now. If we’re going to get your gran through this, then we’ve got to keep our wits about us, ain’t we?’
Amy eyed her miserably, then slowly nodded.
‘Good. Now run back to my place and tell our Toby that we need him straight away. That’s if, God forbid, he ain’t already left for his shift. Go on now, off yer go!’
Amy clattered down the stairs two at a time to fetch Toby. In no time at all he had Molly’s bed set up in the kitchen at the side of a roaring fire, and had carried her in his arms down the narrow stairs. And then the really hard work began. All day long, Amy and Bessie took turns in sponging Molly down with cool water and dripping liquid down her parched throat. But by teatime when the doctor called back as promised, the fever showed no sign of breaking.
‘How long will she be like this?’ Amy asked him, fear in her voice.
He could only shake his head. ‘There’s no way of knowing,’ he admitted.
‘You’re doing all you can,’ he assured her kindly. ‘Just keep it up and I’ll be back first thing in the morning.’
Amy thanked him as Bessie showed him to the door, her heart as heavy as lead within her chest.
Dr Sorrell wished that there was more that he could do, but the old woman’s life hung in the balance now; it was just a matter of waiting. At eleven o’clock that night, Amy insisted that Bessie and Toby went home. Bessie protested, reluctant to leave them but Amy pointed out that Bessie had a husband and her own family to see to, and that she was quite capable of managing on her own till morning. Bessie eventually saw the sense of it and reluctantly slipped back to her own cottage, but Toby refused to go and nothing she said could persuade him otherwise.
‘I’ll sleep on the settee,’ he told her, and although Amy objected, secretly she was glad that he was staying.
It was a seemingly endless night. Molly lay in a deep fever, so still sometimes that Amy feared that she had already gone from her. Tirelessly she sponged her down, talking to her softly all the while, praying that Molly could hear her.
‘Don’t leave me, Gran,’ she begged a thousand times. ‘I love you so much; you’re all I’ve got.’
But through it all, Molly lay unmoving.
When Bessie arrived back at break of dawn, she found Amy red-eyed and exhausted. Toby was fast asleep on the settee and Molly was no better at all. As she scurried about making them all a bit of breakfast, a feeling of dread came on her. She was deeply fond of Molly and couldn’t imagine life without her. She begged Amy to go to bed for a while and try to get some sleep, as the girl looked fit to drop. But Amy flatly refused and instead pulled a hard-backed chair close to the side of her gran’s bed.
There eventually she slipped into an uneasy doze, her hand tightly clutching Molly’s, and it was the doctor on his next visit that woke her. He looked down on the young girl and the old woman sadly. The longer the fever raged, the less chance the sick woman had of coming out of it, as well he knew.
‘Is there nothing more we can do?’ asked Bessie.
He solemnly shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. But take heart, it can’t go on for much longer now. The fever should break soon and I’ll call back again this evening.’
As the morning progressed, Molly appeared, if anything, to get even worse. The sweat ran down her face and she began to thrash about wildly. It took both of them now to bathe her, but not once did they cease in their efforts. Amy’s face was the colour of bleached linen as she watched this beloved old woman slowly slipping away from her. Her eyes held such anguish that they tore at Bessie’s heart.
‘ Please , please , Gran, don’t leave me,’ she begged over and over again, and suddenly – just when it seemed that things couldn’t get any worse – Molly’s eyes sprang open and
‘Right then, Amy.’ Her voice was cool. ‘That’ll be quite enough snivellin’ fer now. If we’re going to get your gran through this, then we’ve got to keep our wits about us, ain’t we?’
Amy eyed her miserably, then slowly nodded.
‘Good. Now run back to my place and tell our Toby that we need him straight away. That’s if, God forbid, he ain’t already left for his shift. Go on now, off yer go!’
Amy clattered down the stairs two at a time to fetch Toby. In no time at all he had Molly’s bed set up in the kitchen at the side of a roaring fire, and had carried her in his arms down the narrow stairs. And then the really hard work began. All day long, Amy and Bessie took turns in sponging Molly down with cool water and dripping liquid down her parched throat. But by teatime when the doctor called back as promised, the fever showed no sign of breaking.
‘How long will she be like this?’ Amy asked him, fear in her voice.
He could only shake his head. ‘There’s no way of knowing,’ he admitted.
‘You’re doing all you can,’ he assured her kindly. ‘Just keep it up and I’ll be back first thing in the morning.’
Amy thanked him as Bessie showed him to the door, her heart as heavy as lead within her chest.
Dr Sorrell wished that there was more that he could do, but the old woman’s life hung in the balance now; it was just a matter of waiting. At eleven o’clock that night, Amy insisted that Bessie and Toby went home. Bessie protested, reluctant to leave them but Amy pointed out that Bessie had a husband and her own family to see to, and that she was quite capable of managing on her own till morning. Bessie eventually saw the sense of it and reluctantly slipped back to her own cottage, but Toby refused to go and nothing she said could persuade him otherwise.
‘I’ll sleep on the settee,’ he told her, and although Amy objected, secretly she was glad that he was staying.
It was a seemingly endless night. Molly lay in a deep fever, so still sometimes that Amy feared that she had already gone from her. Tirelessly she sponged her down, talking to her softly all the while, praying that Molly could hear her.
‘Don’t leave me, Gran,’ she begged a thousand times. ‘I love you so much; you’re all I’ve got.’
But through it all, Molly lay unmoving.
When Bessie arrived back at break of dawn, she found Amy red-eyed and exhausted. Toby was fast asleep on the settee and Molly was no better at all. As she scurried about making them all a bit of breakfast, a feeling of dread came on her. She was deeply fond of Molly and couldn’t imagine life without her. She begged Amy to go to bed for a while and try to get some sleep, as the girl looked fit to drop. But Amy flatly refused and instead pulled a hard-backed chair close to the side of her gran’s bed.
There eventually she slipped into an uneasy doze, her hand tightly clutching Molly’s, and it was the doctor on his next visit that woke her. He looked down on the young girl and the old woman sadly. The longer the fever raged, the less chance the sick woman had of coming out of it, as well he knew.
‘Is there nothing more we can do?’ asked Bessie.
He solemnly shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. But take heart, it can’t go on for much longer now. The fever should break soon and I’ll call back again this evening.’
As the morning progressed, Molly appeared, if anything, to get even worse. The sweat ran down her face and she began to thrash about wildly. It took both of them now to bathe her, but not once did they cease in their efforts. Amy’s face was the colour of bleached linen as she watched this beloved old woman slowly slipping away from her. Her eyes held such anguish that they tore at Bessie’s heart.
‘ Please , please , Gran, don’t leave me,’ she begged over and over again, and suddenly – just when it seemed that things couldn’t get any worse – Molly’s eyes sprang open and
Similar Books
